


Frost

by NancyBrown



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Porn Battle, Year That Never Was, sex by proxy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first time is less than a month after Owen's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frost

**Author's Note:**

> written for Porn battle 14, prompt(s):
> 
> Ianto Jones/Toshiko Sato, snow, green

Their first time is less than a month after Owen's death. It's just the two of them left, cold and terrified and out of ammunition, hiding in the outskirts of Copenhagen. Gwen left them a week ago, striking out on her own to get back to Wales and search for her fiancé amongst the ruins. She took one of the guns and left a note not to follow. Tosh doesn't know if it's because she wanted to keep them safe, or if Gwen was acknowledging she had the best chance of survival and success without two hangers-on.

It doesn't matter. Nothing matters, except the ever-present snow, driving them into shared blankets. It's hardly a leap after that, to take more comfort from the warm body beside her. Ianto's body is nothing like Tosh expected, too furry for her tastes and broad where his suits had implied slimness. He smells bad, they both do, and her nose is going to give up soon without a prayer of a bath. He hasn't seen the good side of a razor since they left for the Himalayas.

But his hands are gentle, and his mouth is kind. Tosh accepts the sweet, chilly kisses, not asking who's behind his closed eyes. Her own fantasies are firmly in place. It's an easy understanding. Ianto's fingers move deftly between her legs, rubbing circles with his thumb. Her body is changing: too lean from the thin rations, new blood thickening her sensitive labia as her hormones shift. The baby is only the size of a nut, and already taking over her life. This should be her baby's father deliberately sliding two wet fingers into Tosh, spreading and teasing, not the only friend she has left.

They're too chilly to strip, even in the cocoon of blankets. She hooks her thumbs on the fastener of his jeans, working button and zip as he pushes her knickers further out of his way. It's a hot, fast coupling then, almost too rough. She's wet enough, and Ianto's breathing hard into her neck, the only noise he makes. He's nothing like Owen, nothing like Mary, nothing like anyone but who he is. She squeezes her own eyes shut, casting for a better moment to encourage her own peak.

She remembers how it was with Owen, finally perfect after so long wanting, how he'd burned into her.

She remembers Mary's devilish face peeking up over the flat, smooth horizon of Toshiko's own belly, before she ducked down to offer more pleasure.

She remembers that one time with Jack, when she was too new to know he made passes at everyone.

She remembers spring, full of green grass and life, not locked away here in the cold darkness, waiting for their chance to sprint to the next refugee camp.

His orgasm builds fast, and in a moment, he's jerking into her, lost in whatever memory he's wearing in her place. Tosh wriggles, aiming for just a little more friction, a little better angle. She's close, not close enough, and he's softening too fast as he withdraws.

Tosh blinks back cold tears, and Ianto pushes a kiss into her mouth, as his hand replaces his cock, sure and quick. His thumb goes back to her clit whilst his smallest finger prods her arsehole. The sudden intrusion shocks her, and she fights into the kiss, coming unexpectedly on his fingers, surging at his touch. When she blinks and breathes, he's got a self-satisfied expression on his face, which is a welcome change from the sorrow they've both worn these last long months.

"Better?"

"Warm now," she agrees, happy to note the tingles all over her body. He reaches for her properly, pulling her close, both of them still clothed except between hip and knee. The blankets smell even worse. Tosh decides not to care.

In the morning, they strike out for the city. In the evening, he robs a jewellery store and brings her back a matched set of rings. It's hardly romantic, merely a practicality for a woman who's soon to show and the man she's travelling with. But she holds his hand as they walk, avoiding the main roads with the soldiers and the floating balls of giggling murderers, and she looks for signs of spring.

**Author's Note:**

> Technically can serve as a prequel to [What to Expect](http://archiveofourown.org/works/234045), Ianto/Tosh


End file.
